the cruel irony of a prophetic love
by kanaiekla
Summary: Prophecies and rumors about the prince's death have been spreading like fire. To stop this apocalyptic event, he is to be married to King Mordred. The fusion of dark, light and true love will keep the world balanced and happiness will flourish. But...what if the prince didn't have eyes for him...? There had to be something, or someone else, right? (Slow-burn and heavy Lewvithur!)


Such a...strange love.

A...twisted love.

Love came in many different forms. Family. A best friend. Maybe a job, or a treasured belonging. But how can one forget the love of that...special someone. A significant other, husband or wife. It's safe to assume that he was under that category. But no matter how deep he looked into it, there was a piece that was...completely missing. Then again, it wasn't like it belonged there anyway. In fact, if he were to sit here any longer, he was going to lose himself. The whole puzzle will fall apart.

It wasn't right. He shouldn't be going down this road. The feeling of holding their hand should be sending pleasure up his arm, warming his chest and dripping down his spine in a pond of honeydew. But instead he felt...cold. There was ice crawling up his skin and an emptiness in his soul. A brush on the lips should have been soft and heated, but he felt he was suffocating, drowning, choking underwater and the surface was freezing over. No. Way. Out.

_Inhale. Exhale. __**Poised.**__ Inhale. Exhale. __**Disciplined. **__Inhale. Exhale. __**A warm smile.**_

_Inhale. Exhale. __**Gentle, golden eyes. **__Inhale. Exhale. __**Back straight. Chin level.**_

_Inhale. Exhale. __**Fear. I**__nhale. Exhale. __**Despair. **__Inhale. Exhale. __**Lips turn downwards.**_

_Inhale...Inhale..._

...

"Please hold still, Divine Prince. I am almost done."

Gentle olive fingers stroked over such pale, soft skin. Blessed paint, judging by its sweet smell. It left behind red sigils and different patterns. The body of a canvas. Carry the sigils proudly, they say. Wield their will. And yet he must lose all of his...?

It was all too much, too fast. Those beautiful memories cracked and shattered, waiting to melt into false dreams. One moment, such blissful freedom and he could fly! Fly away from the trouble and never return to the surface. Selfish desires were all he could hold onto, a spoiled child indeed! Oh how he could witness life as he absorbed the many energies it birthed -

But as it is now, it has always been. Divine child, hear the great whispers and countries were screaming, then ash and debris. Sodden with blood. Deceit bleeding black and ugly into booming eardrums. From there, a horrible hazy film covered those beautiful golden eyes. A dream he lived no more. No more.

"Ah, there you are. Is it to your liking, Divine Prince?"

...

_Dear Gods. Please consume him and leave not a trace._

Heavy sashes of cloth, concealing his front and back from the waist down, dragging across the ground. Perfect balance and careful steps were needed around thick fabric. It revealed his grace, bare soles that can press into the wet soil around shattered glass. Anklets that jingled and rang across the hallway with each cautious step. Armbands and bracelets embedded with many jewels from centuries past. No. Not jewelry. But chains. Chains he needed to pull pull pull and run run run away never come back never wanted to be here -

"I suppose not. My sincerest apologies..." And there that was. He was too lost to even wonder if he would hear the waver in her voice. Such a twisted morality she had. What was even the point in hiding away. Pain lingered hot and fuzzy in the seemingly frigid air. Nothing was right and nothing ever will be.

Ah-haha. How ticklish. Beautifully thin fingers would be fine around his quivering throat, and mercy hidden within her shall arise. But instead they brushed over the hair clinging on his chin, lifting such a sad sad should be happy face up to meet her's. And she's hurt. He had hurt her. Broken, broken feelings. Worn out. Used. How awful.

"There is nothing I can do. I am sorry...But...You must fight through this." A voice as soft as the clouds he had slipped through in the wonderland, left behind so long ago. "If it is for the country, you must endure. A promise you had kept since you were a child." The tar-black despair thickened and sat in the depths of his belly. Ah, but nobody wants to press their lips against his and taste the rising acid. Hold it in with the rest.

And her dark brown hair slipped over those thin shoulders as she planted a kiss ah - not on the lips, but on the crown of his head. It'd be best not to blink if he needn't any water to spill. Hold. Hold and release later. Not now, do not ruin and smudge the sigils and be cursed, or curse her.

His arms barely moved an inch, a statue fulfilling it's duties. She held him close, an act of affection, to ground him with her drumming heartbeat. Remind him that yes, she would always open those doors and invite his love, and that she can invite her's. Love. Familial love. But he does not remember anymore. No look of sorrow. Nothing. There was only ice.

He let out a small huff, a weak laugh. There was no point anymore.

The bells. They were so, so loud. The chanting. It was so, so loud.

They were everywhere. No matter where he looked, he was met with the faces of strangers, good friends, children, visitors of other countries. They all came for a miracle. They all prayed for this moment to come but at least now, they will know true peace and he was the one to thank for that. But must he receive credit yet crumble and fall apart deep within, just as so many others did? It was not fair.

_A selfish child indeed. Selfish. To be unclothed and whipped._

The loudness was like the silence. It was filled with nothing but this was one he could not bear any longer. Any more and he could scream and break down in the middle of the walkway. But he musn't fall now. Hi waited oh-so long for him. So humiliating. Must he dress so revealing in front of many others, feeling as if people were eyeing him like rich veal?

As they were smiling and he returned his own, he shouted beneath the surface. Nobody knew.

No, those upturned lips were an illusion. There was no point in this forced smiling anyway. His face, broken and lost, was veiled with silk, connected to a beautiful headdress concealing most of his beautiful golden locks. That, and a matching, huge choker that he wish would live up to its name. Whispers of how lovely he looked soon followed. He made out every one. Every syllable. This musn't be.

Ah, and he was already up those small steps, bare soles pressing into the rough fabric. Callous feet would soon come and it'd be easy to get a good grip for running. It should have been time to turn around and just run run run forget about this forget about everyone and just...

...

Ah, no, no, no it was him. He...He was already here and he was just as ugly and horrible and demonic as he was the first time he stared in secret disgust. A 'man' of disease, of flies and fleshy bloody hives and everything sick and unholy, an impish demeanor. Just under the skin was black energy, running through those pulsing veins that screamed the cries of a million lost souls. Had the Divine Prince been any stronger, had any more left in him, claws would protrude and green sticky awful flesh would be peeled and reveal the tangled veins and long dead organs underneath.

Golden eyes moved away from those venomous, wide green ones. Sharp and piercing. He wanted to vomit. And there came those prominent fangs. Any one in their right mind would see he could leap over and suck the Prince's blessed blood, in front of a panicking audience. Keep a distance. Death was better than anything else that were to occur.

The priest spoke, but the prince heard...nothing. Had he chose to or was it subconscious? Ah, it didn't matter. He would be thankful to whatever deity was out there listening in. All that mattered to him was not looking the other in the eye. Not a husband, but a monster waiting to strike. He was going to eat this Prince. He could feel it. _Dear Gods, show him some sort of mercy..._

He was forever under the icky, gloomy viridescent control of his soon-to-be husband. Nothing mattered anymore. He didn't matter, this kingdom didn't matter. He just...wanted to run and shut the windows and cry and cry until nothing came out.

...

This kiss was so, very _**cold. **_Ice spiderwebbing across his mouth and he couldn't move. The cheering bells chanting rose to their highest peak and the hazy film over his closed eyes returned without a moment's doubt.

Silky red sheets over a large, soft bed. Dimly lit candles smelled of vanilla and cedar, placed nearby the writing table with assorted inks. A closet filled with beautiful clothes for many different events. And plenty of stacked gifts from the guests in the corner of the room, gently wrapped in decorated paper. It had been a long party, so they would worry about the trinkets and whatnot once they relaxed.

"And what do you think, my love?" Mordred asked, cold fingers making their way to rest on the prince's shoulders.

The blonde moved away slightly and acted oblivious to it. He hummed quietly, painted arms crossed over his bare chest. A bit too lavish for his taste, but it was something he could get around. The animal fur carpet was a bit...harsh, but missable. It all looked decent, sure, but nothing could ever replace his museum of a bedroom. Old fossils and abandoned tools about as ancient as the Gods themselves. A library's worth of books, stacks ready to tip over and make a mess. Paradise for a brain such as his. And they knew this...

"It is...livable." The reply was more distant than he initially thought. Unintentionally or not, he enjoyed the ice he melded into it. "I had expected more appeal in the decorations. An eyesore." He huffed.

Mordred glared at him with those ugly green peepers of his. The prince would just love to gouge out those things, wouldn't he? Mordred released a laugh from his rat-filled belly, hands on his hips. "This is pure luxury! Only the most worthy of divine royals can rest high in these places. Stone carved my ancestors, left behind for us to worship and appreciate. Hmph! An honor, I do believe."

"Ah, yes. However you must remember my standards. Rooms are to be filled. Unimpressive." Seems like someone is a bit too passionate. Then again, the prince could never part with his research.

"Sometimes less is better. A necessary evil." Mordred replied, not taking his eyes away from a sanded skull on his shelf. One of his many ancestors. "Anyways. You were so extravagant, walking down that aisle. A true Goddess."

The 'goddess' in question just stood idly nearby the bed, not looking at anything particular anymore. Loss of sleep, that's what it looked like. Because at least some of the makeup covered the dark bags under his eyes. Mordred continued anyway. "You danced so gracefully, too. Such tears of passion." He chuckled, a tone of malicious intent. What a bastard. He knew and didn't care, didn't _** n.**_

He made his way over to his bride, noticing he hasn't said anything since the previous topic. It appears something has crossed his mind, because he hasn't blinked in the last few seconds. And for any husband, concern was a key detail they needed. "Oh, my most beloved, wasn't it exciting for you at all? This means our future and I thought you'd say more...?"

Deep blue, just as those suffocating waters were, appeared to be stuck in his throat. Must he really say he hated it hated it all hated him and didn't want to be here, rather would have just died? Because he could of. Should of, throw away everything and hide. But he held his tongue, bitten and bleeding. And he cleared the water from his throat. "It appears big events don't fill me with too much excitement, ironically. But do believe me when I say things are looking brighter for our country."

It wasn't much, but at least there was a little Mordred could work off of. Such faux words could be addressed later, though. He knew his beloved prince was lying through his teeth, at least to some degree. "Oh! How lovely to hear! I wished it could have lasted forever! From here on out, this will become the greatest days of our lives, will it not?"

"...yes, it shall."

Mordred smiled that awful smile again. A perfect angle for the raging fist of a prince to break all of his teeth, let him choke on each one. "Yes, good. Now then, tomorrow we shall go over the papers and send the men out to guard the ends of town. We do not know for sure if any more of those Paradiso bastards will come in and start more nonsense." He grumbled through his sharp fangs, shuddering through the name. He brushed at his black hair before continuing.

"I do not want more trouble after we have created world peace, the day after our wonderful wedding. Then nothing. Nothing. Will take you away from me."

It almost made the prince happy knowing doors would be broken down, and he or his husband would be assassinated before they made it down the stairs. But such a sick smile was hidden away as he rubbed at his face, acting nervous and coy. "Yes, that would surely be a tragedy." He muttered, not even saying anything about Mordred's words about refusing their separation.

The prince reached his hand up, fingers gripping onto the headdress he donned since the wedding event. He felt each golden groove along the surface, the many feathers sprouted from the back of it. Beautiful it was. But knowing it was on his own head, here and now, made him feel awfully sick. It rested heavy on him, pressure on his neck concealed by his thick necklace...

"Ah-haha. Let me help you." Mordred's words were honeyed, but tasted bitter.

The prince could feel the chilly release of air behind his ear, the shivers running down his spine and dripping black at the base. The breath smelled of death and rot, filling his nostrils and almost making him choke. Too close too close too fast...

Icy, long fingers stroked up those beautiful golden locks, all the way to the back where he loosened the headdress with ease, like flowing water, but polluted with so much red red red. The prince's nose scrunched and he squinted those beautiful eyes of his as the accessory came off, the silk of the veil gently brushing over the paint on his face. But it was dry enough not to ruin anything. How cruel.

That same hand came around, pressed up against the prince's sideburn, the other hand pulling him into his cold, black embrace. No, he didn't want to be caged like this again - no not ever. It felt so wrong so dark so awful and he gently pulled himself away, wrapping his arms around the wooden bedpost. After all this time, he still hasn't looked Mordred in the face. Never. Never again. But he musn't fight back, as much as he was craving to, needed to. "I am no child."

Mordred hummed, clearly impressed by his lover's words. Looks like he still has something in him, after all. "That's too bad. You sure act like one a lot of the times. And that is why I still must act as your supervisor. However, no doubt your innocence is...delicious..."

No reply, but those words made him shudder. How disgusting of him to say. He was a human being, nothing to be feasted upon. The prince walked around Mordred, setting himself down on the bed. The softness was comforting. And there he was with that ugly gravelling groan again, ah. Those long, almost black fingernails slipped a stray lock of his yellow hair back with the rest, almost mixing in with the mismatched brown in the front. The shaking that hid away once returned, as if he was left out in the winter wearing silk...

The tar-black despair thickened and sat in the depths of his belly once more. But before he could lick chapped lips, ugly greenish ones pressed into the crook of his neck, and he tried to hold back a scream once he was pulled back into the horrible embrace of the other.

The kisses continued up to his cheek and then went back down, that slick long tongue brushing by his shoulder and nipping at his skin like an animal about to feast on its prey. The prince shivered not in want but in disgust. Had he been stronger, he'd push away and shout and cry how disgusting he was and how he wanted him to burn burn and crumble just as the countries before him once did...

"M-Mordred, s-stop...!"

_**"-So easy to tear into, little lamb..."**_ He growled into his ear, claws scraping over those sensitive thighs. It almost hurt, red scars left behind and the prince whined in the pain. To not be in control of a situation, to be held down and taken before one even has a chance to think no no NO he tried to move away, tried to push him, trying to hide a defensive growl and scream and just push push push but those arms were too_** g**_ and maybe it was already too late...

"...Mordr...d-dred!"

Those scaley fingers and claws went around and pressed under the fabric of his dress, the ice spiderwebbing from the hands to his asscheeks, pressing in like freshly cut veal, like he was some sort of fucking dirty animal to be ravaged upon. Gentle hands come around to be rougher, in attempt to pull him away, but a single claw could cut through flesh and made him bleed all over this expensive cloth but nobody would come to help, nobody ever did and not even now as a single finger slid between and tried to press into that tight unused hole of his -

"MOR-M-Mordred!" The prince practically shot himself away from his captor husband, but only cleared his throat louder than expected and gently tugged those hands away from the offending parts. The feeling of slime clung onto him like a leech, bleeding into the fabric and attaching itself anywhere it could reach. It reeked of rot and blood. It was disgusting and he wanted to cry. This outfit was a disaster, made for him to be used and taken. A prisoner, indeed. "Enough - please, s-stop!" Breaths were hard to get in and out dammit why couldn't he breathe -

"Oh~? Don't be so shy. We are all alone." Gods, he could hear the unsettling, demonic growl in the depths of his captor's lover's throat. Hunger failed to be sated. A disobedient lamb, he was. Dissatisfaction, but only more satisfying for the prince seeing how the other couldn't get his fix. He never will for as long as they're both around, he swore it.

The prince tried to cease his shaking before he made another excuse, feeling as if he must frantically rub the ick off of his own skin. "A-another time. I-I am fatigued."

An awful excuse from an awful man such as himself. Now he felt like the disgusting one. How could he have been so weak, so thin legged and fragile enough to keep himself from leaving his embrace...? Such power from a Divine like him would be enough to mak disappear, yes...? Pathetic. A mistake. But the fanged scowl he wore just for a moment turned into a gentle not too gentle smirk, those lips daring to touch his face again. But the prince's hands didn't bother to reach up and rip them. Vile rat. Burn. He didn't care didn't need to...

"...Right, sure -" There wasn't any need to pry. All that was left was his obedient and loyal he could be to him. Not that the prince would given him any of that, of course. "And what of the gifts? Wouldn't you like to see what treasures they have picked out for you?"

Nothing could have been as amazing as the ones he found. Appreciation was more flooded by the fiery rage of a divine royal, the wrath of his piercing soul. Plastic and metal pieces melded together in different colors. In the end, they were all the same. At best the prince could have just requested the servants to just...throw them out, it wasn't good enough.

"T-Tomorrow. I'd like to be f-full of energy once I-I lea-look them over. They w-will not vanish overnight."

Mordred paused in his steps before he hummed in agreement. At least he got those slimy icy fingers to cease their fondling, if only for a while. No more had to be said as the vanilla-cedar candles were blown out one by one, leaving the room entirely in darkness, save for whatever light was outside on the balcony, the view of the entire kingdom. It made a great last resort in the prince's eyes, should this go on for any longer.

_**A selfish child, indeed. Spoiled. Bratty. Ungrateful. How dare he.**_

The rest of the night was to be complete hell. And yet he'd rather suffer there than be here, unless this was the place he had been comparing it to. And if it were the case, it was a shame there was nothing else. Already too afraid to go to sleep, he has wrapped the sashes tight around his legs, resembling a merman tail of sorts, so that further fondling would remain gone for sure. Even now the slime failed to cease it's crawling sensations. A cocoon of safety, literally hiding himself away from the blacks and reds and the death and the rot and blood of the world.

Remaining warm was a problem as those green dark energy spirals of torment, laying dormant in those cold winter arms, wrapped themselves once more around the prince's frail and gentle body. There was nowhere he could go now, nowhere to escape and no way to scream and cry and pray to the Old Gods about how could they have let this happen, why must they make him suffer and doom everyone else...?

A man of destruction. Hundreds of ancient kingdoms, destroyed, long gone and under the false rumours of monsters and assassin-kings. When it all boiled down to this despicable man who laid above him, breathing down onto his face waiting for the perfect moment to eat him, swallow him whole never to return.

_Dear Gods, please set this bed aflame and end both of their disgusting lives. For what it's worth, suffering in hell together was better than only one of them living one._

Alone.

The food was as bland as ever.

A perfect blend of seasonings within the roasted vegetables, a varied plate of thick, choice cut meats, it's robust smell filling the air, along with the extravagant wine on the side. A bit much for lunch, but it was actually very light. Despite all of the delicious food sitting right in front of him, the want and need for any for it wasn't...there. Just emptiness. He feared vomiting if he tried to take a bite, already queasy from the smell.

The threading and constructed words of politics rang in his ears. Thank the Old Gods they were quieter than the bells from the wedding. But the feel for the conversation wasn't there. And there he sat, along delicious food, a new lover, surrounded by what they call themselves his family and discussing the further protection of their kingdom. Should there be peace in the coming days, they would bring down the gates.

He should be happy. Everything as it is now was going just as they wanted to. But he could taste and feel the black-rot in the air, twisting and mudding on their clothes, staining and sodding them. The empty core sitting in his chest was an easy target, dripping like a water in a vacant cave, nowhere...

He had only hoped one of those deities heard something. These icy, slimey green fingers and arms were already around him, holding his fragile body close. His lungs filled with tobacco smoke, the taste unbearable sitting on his lying tongue. The urge to spit was coming in, ah, and wouldn't it be funny to spit at that disgusting Mordred's face -

"Divine Prince," one of the many foreign rulers called out, quirking an eyebrow. "You have been quiet for several minutes now. Are you quite alright?"

Golden, yet so empty so meaningless eyes slowly looked up at the speaker, fingers tightly pressed together under the table. "...do what you must to expand the kingdom's land. I have no say in the matter. My husband, however, agrees that all parties should be satisfied if we are to live in harmony with one another."

Some, across the table blinked at the same time. This was the most he's said the entire hour they have been here. And while it sort of made sense what he was saying, they were more confused by his sudden words more than anything else. Mordred only smiled that awful smile again at such a sudden, smart response, and ran his black clawed fingers through the prince's hair. This time, he did not flinch at the cold touch, one he has felt since day one.

The same king spoke again, breaking the silence. "Y-Yes, of course." He cleared his throat, scratching at his beard before grabbing a slice of meat. "But...your opinion on this is necessary as well-"

"If my assistance is required, I will do all I am physically capable of. Need there be anymore to discuss?" He grumbled. He was tired, he was so so tired of these damned rules and agendas and demands. The others looked at themselves like they have seen or heard such the strangest thing in the whole world. And the silence came back to the room once more, the feeling of his husband's supposedly comforting fingers wasn't even helping...

"I suppose we have a deal?" Mordred interjected. "Now begone. We shall look over the contracts and message you at a later date."

The bearded king took a steady breathe, an uneasy feeling clinging onto the atmosphere. The rest of the rulers had already gotten up, some bowing respectfully before grabbing their things and heading out the double doors. "U-Uhm...d-deal. It was an honor meeting you two in person. Especially the all holy Divine Prince himself."

"The feeling is mutual, my friend. Do take care of yourself across Riverhold. I bid thee farewell." The words came out with practiced ease, but not a jovial tone to be heard of. However, it was enough to satisfy the other, to which he thanked him before grabbing his things and taking his leave along with the others. The double doors slammed shut, the sound of guards restarting their patrol routes, some of them guiding the visitors outside.

All in all, there was nothing but complete silence, and the prince felt more alone than ever before. Aside from the unfinished food and the wine, it was just him, in the arms of his loving husband, as cold and slimey and alien as ever. But the calmness was enough for him to at least meditate on what exactly led up to this point. If he had wished to, he could have slipped out of that embrace and just take his own leave -

Beautiful blonde locks were gripped tightly by icy fingers, strands threatening to come out as he heard them tear from his scalp. _Dear Gods, he knew the pain would come again someday. _No blood, no, at least not yet. But even now he preferred dying than having to hear that horrible grating voice again. Everything turned tar-black black black and an icky slimey green, dripping onto the table under them.

Just when he thought a shed of some sort of light was restored within him. Scooped out of his insides, coal and ash sitting in the deep dark hole in his chest. There was nothing there anymore. _Dear Gods, help him hold onto something..._

"And where the hell have you been?"

It shouldn't have mattered to him anyway. The prince was free to go wherever he wished! He needn't a bodyguard or anyone else to come along with him, not in a place so sacred and meaningful to him. This fear was scalding, burning and bubbling and tearing at the mental flesh of his being, a cage with no way out no matter where he turned, there was always a venomous face waiting to snap and chew an him...

"...I-It has only b-been an hour." Golden eyes still refused to look into those green ones, staring boldly at the ground as those nimble hands held onto those loose white robes like his life depended on it. "The usual r-r-oute I take in the e-early mor-m-mornings. Far f-from dire."

"That damn temple again." The growl was deep, sitting right in this- this demon's chest and the prince felt it right against his arms. "And why didn't you tell me?" Ohh, such a cold cold voice, piercing swords and daggers rusted with blood into his beaten body. Pain pain pain splitting pounding awful pain and there's all that is...

Anger. Red and hot and passionate as the fear that twisted everything within him. The scent of that sinful blood, oh that blood was just threatening to be spilt by divine hands, staining his dignity and innocence. The words of hate and black-oily messes were clinging onto the back of his twitching, hesitant throat. But he silenced himself and swallowed it down, the bitterness resting in his belly again. Old rotting yellows in the deep. The prince took a deep breath, as best as he could anyway.

"I am no child."

"If you knew that, you wouldn't have to remind me! Fucking show me, then!" Mordred growled, louder than the prince expected to be. It pierced deep within his soul, making him shudder and shake and he was this close to yelling back. No, this was exactly how it felt before, where everything trembled within and ceased the retaliation within him.

Silence filled the room, ringing within the prince's ears like that of the bells in their wedding. Oh, what a sight to see. Newlyweds fighting the second day after such a delightful event. Well, delightful for at least one of them. The words died down in his throat. So much to say but he didn't dare to out of fear. If he had tried anything, he would be punished...

"Only I could ever be your saviour. You do not have anyone else to turn to."

Mordred shoved his prince back into the seat, the wooden legs thrusted harshly away, along his fragile body. Only a few blonde strands came loose, lost within the rest of his hair and his scalp hurt so badly.

"If they've never answered before, what makes you think they'll do it now...?"

...In some ways, maybe the bastard was right. He hasn't even heard a single word coming from the Old Gods ever since this started. Was this...Was this even worth the time anymore? No matter what he did, no matter how many times he prayed and waited for a miracle to come along, nothing would work. So why even bother...? Well. Maybe...Maybe because there still was something there. A gleam, a twinkle, somewhere out there in the cosmos where he could still receive that piece of himself again and restore things to how they once were. If only it came sooner...Or was he just...being spoiled?

_**"Try me, little lamb. Pray one more time and I will cut out your tongue. You will not speak of that damned place ever again, and not even so much as think of going back there. Do you understand?"**_

The only way to freedom or even passing on. The only way for him to contact the Old Gods, so that they can hear his cries and lend a healing hand. No more. Then again and once again, they never even answered anyway. But he needed to know why. It always led back to Mordred and there shouldn't have been a reason why. Mordred was not a God. It was so unfair.

The prince sat up properly, but still kept his gaze down before those thin arms clenched down on his clothes once more, his entire body flinching at Mordred's ugly blood soaked words. As if to make sure it was still there, he slid the aforementioned, set muscle across his teeth, tasting the tobacco and wine he had accidentally inhaled and drank earlier. It looks like he had no choice in the matter. Again...

Alone...

"Yes, Mordred. I understand."

_"...At what cost?"_

_**"What else is there? It is destiny, after all."**_

_"He is free to make his own choices. Give him a chance."_

_**"He is young, naive and inexperienced. This is the extra push he needs. Dark and light will finally join as one and peace upon many nations will soon flourish."**_

_"I see..."_

_**"So you will. This prophetic love shall take place. With their happiness comes our's."**_

He shouldn't have come here.

He was only going to get in trouble again. Going against a royal's rules, and in a situation like this...? He must have been crazy. Even now he could hear the hoofbeats within the earth itself, a group of men desperate to carry out Mordred's commands. There would have had to know that he wasn't home right now. And that was the part that terrified him most of all. But...he couldn't go back. Not right now, not when he couldn't take it anymore.

Three months and a half months of torture. He had hoped at night, an assassin would come in, slit his throat and have him bleed all over the bed, as selfish as it was. But nobody came. The old black bloods and the odors of rat and shit rubbing against his all too cold skin and all too revealing clothes, as if he were just a treasure to show off rather than a human being. Golden eyes peeled open, scerla red, bloodshot, because sleep wasn't an option or as fulfilling as this awful destiny. Blonde locks were pulled until strands fell out, bruises and blood and ick crawled around under over and everywhere it could ever be on his skin.

_No. More._

...

It had been ages since he came back here.

Such a mystery, this place was. The origins of it were unknown by many. And even the prince himself had to question where it sprouted from. Surely the Old Gods have made this place in their golden years, did they not? So many questions to be answered, so many missing upon his future discoveries, for he was too scared to look deeper in these temples.

Just the way it was years ago, yes, but so much older. Green moss grew on dying trees, thin and bark peeling away onto the forest floor. Grass stood mighty and all, reaching up to his trembling knees but he needn't fear such beauty.

Snakes and bugs inhabiting and crawling all about in the greenery. No fear.

The Sun was beating down on him like a drum, and he was sweating something fierce. Mercy, please...? If he had stayed in his former wedding attire (as awful as it was), he wouldn't have been so hot. Thick and blessed white robes, made from varied cottons and some special kind of hide, trapped the heat inside like those saunas Mordred was so fond of.

It was hard to walk along here as it is. But now he must bear the scratches and bruises that had came from last night. The will to sleep had vanished with the other bits of his fractured sanity, the bandages around him not nearly enough to conceal the inner pain.

Up the stone steps he went, wet and dripping from the earlier rain, the scent of soil and humid wind filling his nose. The grooves of his sandals could have been sanded smooth by how swift he was going as he continued on. Stone monuments, some of faces or hands, stood in all of their glory nearby temples. Some looked familiar to the prince, like a time long gone. Perhaps he recalled someone. Perhaps he'll meet them later in his limited life.

Echoes. He could hear them deep within the temple, right off of the stone walls and mixing within the welcoming breeze that cooled his face. Shadows danced in the sunlight, lost spirits who crave to touch such divinity that ran along his skin. Their years went by and such patience was wearing thin, the thread threatening to snap and run wild like the creatures of the forest. Whispered apologies from a disgrace like himself wouldn't mend it's wounds. They'd never forgive him for being gone for so long...

Inhale. Exhale. Everything was going to be fine.

...

There was a pull. Subtle and gentle, but eager in its meaning. The prince became nervous as his body had lightly moved forward, almost on its own. Spirits had always sang and spoke through him, but Gods? He didn't think he'd reach that level yet, after so long. If they insist he entered, then it must have been okay.

Prayers were hard but felt fulfilling, leaving oneself bare and letting go of everything they were and had been, asking for forgiveness or a sign. Oh how easy it would be to scream and cry and beg for a miracle, shifting everything around him for such a perfect reality that had been shattered for so long, too long. Rage boiled red deep within his soul, the fear of unleashing it shielded by his golden ambition. He was far from being a prophet himself. Never will he foresee the horrifying path laid out for all. But...there must have been a way out of this trap. Somehow.

The Old Gods must have felt his pain. A sight it must have been to watch him weep in sorrow. His chest felt...hot as fire, cold as snow at the same time. Three paths behind those stone walls he roamed about. Not a single pillar of flesh stood in his way, not even green and reeked of death.

As always, he took the middle path for guidance.

Burning candles. Such a foreign smell that was more welcoming than otherworldly. It had wrapped him in so much warmth, so much more than the dastardly heat from such a black red rot outside world. Here was his true home, letting go of everything else. To live here forever and grow and eat and sing like a true Divine, reliving those dreams where he had flew so far. This were to be his landing destination, would it not...? How selfish of him. Such a spoiled child.

An altar, claimed by the dried, dark red blood he leaked to remove his horrible sins. Around it were smaller monuments, what they think those Old Gods must have looked like, those rocky old eyes staring daggers within his soul. They were calling here and now, he felt it. They knew oh they knew but shouldn't they care?

He set his knees onto the stone floor, soon to be sore and irritated against the hardness. Be willing to endure it, they say, if he were so red and passionate about those prayers being answered. Endure...He removed the top half of his robes, torso and arms exposed to the warm yet wet air, almost as comforting as a mother's arms. He dare not look at the red sigils along his skin. And so he clasped his hands together, forehead pressed against them and golden eyes gently shut.

Those words, unrecognizable in any language humanly possible, filled the temple with a lost sound. Over time, he had felt it wasn't even his own voice anymore, rather, he had became an observer. They melded into the sounds of tinkling stars, a chorus of one thousand galaxies, hidden cries and mourns and skin he had yet to shed in favor of a new beginning...

_Oh, Dear Gods from above, please sing through him and raise the truth beneath the waters. Ohhh Dear Elder Mothers and Fathers, open a path to thee and-_

"Oh wow, holy shit! I didn't think it'd be possible to find anyone else here!"

The prince's eyes shot open, mouth falling agape. Oh no oh no oh no no no NO this couldn't be. He must have been dreaming, right? There was no way somebody in their right mind would ever travel far deep within this forest, almost getting themselves bitten or attacked by a feral furry creature, just to see what was hidden in these depths...right...? And after all this time, where he was trying to hide the fact that this place even existed...? This couldn't be true. It was...all a hallucination, right...? Right?

Only a voice crack echoed within the chambers, and he could have sworn he had heard the voice giggle. But this was not funny! How dare she arrive out of nowhere and just...? Slowly, he turned his head around, and was greeted by vivid blue locks, and a smile of purity set on the woman's face.

_Dear Gods...she...she was beautiful, actually._

"Divine Prince...? Oh! This is so awesome! And an honour!" A quick, respectful bow, oh dear - "Sup! Your voice is very lovely, by the way!"

His mouth was...too dry for words.


End file.
